


the magic (of getting laid)

by WithYourRhythm



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Bad Flirting, Criminal Akatsuki, First Meetings, KkOb Discord Secret Santa 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithYourRhythm/pseuds/WithYourRhythm
Summary: Obito thinks that this must be his new record at making a cop's day turn into a hell. Well, it's another accomplishment he made today, it seems.





	the magic (of getting laid)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Desdimonda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/gifts).



> Your gift is all ready, Desdi! Bad boy Obito vandalizing, and cop Kakashi (not gritty or sad, but my heart couldn't handle him being all that in Christmas so get some shitty, mischievous Kk) being a little shit in modern AU! Hope you like it, Happy New Year bb~

_ … fifty-nine, sixty. One, two... _

 

Obito looks at the photo of the car he splashed a whole bucket of paint, and smirks. This isn't what he planned to do at first, but it worked all the same and that's what matters to him, not the fact that he's currently handcuffed to a desk at police station.

 

The brown haired, serious looking cop rests his hands on the table, leaning on them. His eyes look weary, and the sigh he lets out contains all the negative emotions one can think of.

 

Obito thinks that this must be his new record at making a cop's day turn into a hell. Well, it's another accomplishment he made today, it seems.

 

“You realize that we can't just let you go, right? What you did was a  _ crime _ .” The man emphasises the last word, as if Obito doesn't know it already. He has been doing this for years, what does this man think him as? A saint? A  _ highschooler? _

 

This is a waste of time.

 

“You have to cooperate and tell me your name, or at least a phone number. You wouldn’t want to spend Christmas in jail, do you?”

 

Christmas means nothing to him, so Obito smirks and looks up to the man, “Any number?”

 

The man sighs, massaging his nose, “One that belongs to your family.”

 

Obito lifts an eyebrow, and it's not the same sting he always feels when someone mentions his family, because he's over it now, years that have passed leaving a slight scar in the place of that deep wound. He learned to accept that his family will never be what he wants it to be, but instead, a hindrance, but he could never be the person he is now without it and he's grateful, just as much as hateful. He can never regret his life, with all the bitter memories and warm hands, sharp insults and quiet smiles. They are everything he knows and cares, and he appreciates life in a way he never though he would a few years back then.

 

“Well, I don't have one, so good luck with that, officer.”

 

The cop does not appreciate his answer, though. He growls something under breath, and the bags under his eyes looks more defined than before, “How about your name? You can give that to me, right?”

 

_ … twenty-five, twenty-six... _

 

Obito shrugs apologetically. He doesn't want to make the poor man's job harder, but he won't play against his own case either. He may be giving the man a headache, but it's better than him having one. He knows how to put himself first when it's needed, and he's not afraid to do so either.

 

_ You'd be proud _ , Obito thinks with a bitter smile,  _ or more like disappointed that I never learned to do that when you were alive, Rin. _ After all, she always complained about how he never thought of himself. Though, Obito can be slow, but he's catching up.

 

“Okay,” The cop grunts, “That’s it. I'm done with this,” He grabs his hat from the table and pushes himself away, a frown stuck on his face. He seems displeased, but not surprised. Obito approves the way he knows when to give up, “I can't deal with this one more minute. Stay here, I’ll send someone to take care of you.”

 

Obito snorts, “As if I can leave when you cuffed me to this table-” The door closes before he can finish, and he huffs with annoyance. He may be the one with a criminal record here, but apparently, he's also the only one who knows how to be polite.

 

Well, he'll get out of here soon, Kisame should be on his way to let Nagato know what's going on.

 

_ (“We should go back. Nagato wouldn't like this.” _

 

_ “Well, what does that prick like anyway? We'll do this my way.”) _

 

Obito sighs loudly, the voice sounding small in the empty office, and it's funny that the cop trusts the cuff on his wrist enough to leave him alone in this office of theirs. He can escape from this under a minute, and he has enough time to try-

 

The door opens again. A cop, in his late twenties, with silver hair and a surgical mask on, steps in while talking, one hand playing with the eyepatch on his left eye. Obito squints at that lean body, and  _ how the hell is he a cop? _

 

“-such an evilness, my little subordinate has! Look at him making me do his work, just before Christmas too!” The man whines, his lone eye glinting with dry humour. Obito decides that he hates that shine, no matter how attractive it makes the man look.

 

The familiar screech of the previous cop that had tried to get his name comes from outside, full of rage and tiredness at the same time, “My job?  _ My job? _ It's you job, and you're trying to make me do it, Captain! You can't always catch some armed men, you need to take care of these kinds of cases too-”

 

The silver-haired cop lightly closes the door, humming idly. “Well, he really needs to get laid.”

 

Obit snorts before he can stop himself, catching the attention of the cop, “Ah, what do we have here?” The man takes a few steps towards the table, hands going inside his pockets, “A stalker? Did you abuse someone? How about murder? A Christmas murder story I can have fun with?”

 

He looks cheerful enough that Obito keeps the frown that wants to take over his face in, thinking that rolling his eye is enough to give the man his opinion on those ridiculous guesses. “No, your friend is just too kinky,” He shrugs, “If you know what I mean.”

 

The cop gives him an eye-smile, walking towards Obito. He catches the chair standing beside the table and pulls it closer, “Hmm, I’m not sure. How about you explain it to me?”

 

_ … fifty-three, fifty-four... _

 

As the cop sits on the chair backwards, legs wide open, Obito watches with interest, and the muscles moving beneath the uniform is enough to get his attention immediately. The cop scratches the side of his surgical mask, and Obito wriggles his toes, trying to concentrate on something,  _ anything _ other than the curious glint in the cop’s eye.

 

“This is awkward,” The cop mutters, “But I’m Hatake Kakashi. The unit that caught you is under my command, and you’re kind of cute so I wanted to take care of the paperwork whatever you’ve done caused and ask you out for dinner, being romantic because of Christmas and all.” He lifts an eyebrow suggestively, “How does it sound?”

 

Obito stares at him, the stupidity of the words as unbelievable as Sasori accepting to go to an amusement park with Deidara, “I’m not- What?”

 

The cop,  _ Kakashi _ , sighs. “Ah, was I too quick?” He shakes his head with disappointment, “Yamato is probably right about me needing to learn how to communicate.”

 

Obito blinks, face flushing slightly. This isn’t what he expected to hear at all. He’s in here for a crime he has done, so  _ what’s up with this guy? _ “I- What the fuck?” 

 

The cop hums, the smile of his obvious even under his mask, “Oh, you look pretty when you’re cursing too. That’s good.” Hatake puts his elbow on the table and leans his head on a hand, “But back to the serious business, why did you paint that car? The guy may be an asshole, but he was clever enough to call us. He’s better than you at thinking, it seems.”

 

Obito shakes his head furiously, an angry expression taking over his face, “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Hatake’s other hand rests on the table, his fingers tapping idly. One lone eye stays locked on him, and Obito keeps his mouth shut. A few insult are nothing for him, he can take a little embarrassment to be the last one to laugh.

 

The cop sighs again, “Well, you’re probably an Uchiha,” He mutters, pointing Obito’s hair with his chin, “You guys are always the same.”

 

Obito squeezes his hand into a fist, biting his tongue to stop himself from cursing to the cop’s experience with Uchiha’s. He should’ve dyed his hair before this all happened, but now it’s too late. His look tells who he is if one knows what to look for, and this cop certainly does.

 

_ Nagato won’t like this _ , Kisame’s voice whispers to his mind once again,  _ you need to wait. _

 

_ Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine- _

 

Obito turns his eyes back to the cop, and gives him a smile that’s more like a snarl, “My lawyer will take care of everything from now on.”

 

_ Sixty. _

 

A knock, coming from the other side of the door, echoes in the room. Hatake turns his head towards it, eye drooping lazily, “Hmm?”

 

The door parts slightly, the brown haired cop peeking inside with a disturbed expression on his flushed face, “Captain. This guy’s lawyer is here, he’s waiting to talk with you.”

 

Hatake looks back to Obito, and there’s an entertained spark painting his eyes, “Is that so?”

 

Obito’s playful voice reaches to him, “Looks like you’ll have to go and take care of my paperwork,” He smirks, “With my lawyer.”

 

The cop huffs, a strand of silver hair swinging in front of his eyes with it. He looks disappointed, but he pushes himself off the chair all the same.

 

Obito takes a moment to look over the man again, murmuring under his breath, “Hatake Kakashi, huh?” Hatake lifts a silver eyebrow, and Obito lets his smirk fade, a small smile taking its place, “I’m Obito,” He tugs his wrist, the cuff clanking against the table’s iron legs, “You can get my phone number from my lawyer. Off the records.”

 

The cop’s - _ Kakashi, _ Obito tries the name in his mind- eye crinkles with delight, and he repeats, a nod following his words, “Off the records.” He salutes Obito mischievously, and turns back to walk towards his confused subordinate, whistling happily. 

 

“Captain? What’s going on?” The brown-haired cop asks as Kakashi throws an arm over his shoulder, pulling him out of the room, “Nothing you need to worry about, my pure minion! Your captain is just planning to get laid on Christmas Eve~”

 

As door closes over the sound of choking and cheerful whistling, Obito feels himself flushing slightly.

 

_ This went better than expected. _ He looks at the cuffs one more time,  _ a lot better. _

 

And surprisingly, he doesn’t feel like complaining at all.

**Author's Note:**

> (Yamato had a heart attack after learning that his captain is dating with a criminal, as you can imagine.)


End file.
